Squinting into the sun.
Ah, pedestals. I love them... so grand, so functional, so impossible to scale. Maybe it's a phallic thing. Maybe it's about keeping that precarious balance. Maybe it's because I'm fundamentally damaged and seem to enjoy setting impossible, defeatist tasks for myself - not so much putting someone on, but more trying to get them down. It's not in me.
I could not wipe the grin off my face yesterday, on the train home - it's insane what a single, simple comic gesture from relevant parties can do to my mood when I'm in this state - and I spent half the evening trying to shake off the ridiculously unjustifiable good mood. Then I gave up and revelled in it for the other half of the evening. Now I'm on the EXXXTREEEEME COMEDOWN. Why do I keep doing these fucking things?
DeeMacGee is a stupid, stupid man who really needs to just resign himself to the abject inevitability of his situation.
Grow the fuck up, you idiot.
2 externalised cogitations can't be wrong!:
You're not stupid, my dear, you're just very human and introspective and lovely all the more because of it. Now stop being mean to yourself!
That's sweet of you to say, dear, much appreciated.
It seems that getting angry - REALLY ANGRY - with myself is the only way I'm surviving today.
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I welcome your linguistic ejaculate.